Fucking fuck fuck fuck!
You have to be fucking kidding me!
Why was she everywhere I went?
“Can I get a Dos Equis?” I asked the bartender.
As much as I tried to ignore it, push past it and her, it never got any better.
“Palmer,” I said as I slid onto the barstool beside her. I slipped on a smirk, something to deter her from any desire to speak to me.
“Thorne,” she replied with more than a little annoyance in her tone.
It was exactly what I wanted, but for some reason, it rubbed me wrong.
“What brings you here?” I asked.
She didn’t even turn to look at me. “I’m here every Friday. Why are you here?”
“I needed a drink. I just spent the last hour trying to lose Kelly. I think she was trying to find out where I live.”
She let out a sigh. “And of course you had to land in my bar.”
“Does it have your name on it?” I asked, just to be a smart ass.
She glared at me and was about to say something when John interrupted with my drink.
“Here you go,” he said as he set the bottle down. “Wanna start a tab?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
He turned to Delilah. “Lila, you good?”
She tapped her finger on the glass in her hand. “One more.”
The name threw me off, and when he left to make her drink, I leaned on the bar, sliding a little closer to her.
“Lila?”
“Short for Delilah.”
I took a sip of my beer. “I’ve never heard anyone call you that nickname.”
“Only Caroline at the office does. Delilah is more professional, so only my friends call me Lila.”
Friends. Where were all her supposed friends? She sat beside me, in a bar, all alone, and from the familiarity between her and the bartender, it was a regular occurrence.
We sat next to each other in silence, my attention trying to stay on the basketball game on the screen in front of me and not on the few inches that separated us. It was a dangerous situation to be in, especially with how obsessed I’d been with her.
I finished off three beers as Delilah sipped her way through her drink. A firm grip on my bottle was all I had to stop me from reacting to the current that moved between us, from dragging her to the back and fucking her like I’d dreamt of for weeks.
“Well, I’m out,” she said as she signaled to the bartender for her tab.
I watched her, the loose way her body moved, the drooping of her eyes. She was relaxed, tired, and a prime fucking target the moment she stepped out those doors.
“See you Monday, Thorne,” she said, then let out a small giggle. “Thorne…in my side.”
It was barely audible, but I heard it. There was no way I was going to let her walk or drive wherever she was going, so I called for my check and quickly followed her out.
By the time I made it outside, she wasn’t very far ahead of me, her steps slow and wobbly. I kept my distance, not wanting to tip her off. As we passed by an alleyway, she caught the attention of two men standing in the dark.
MINE!
They stared after her, whispered words I could barely hear, but it was clear they were drunk and up to no good. I glared at them, waiting for them to move toward her so I could beat the shit out of them for even looking her way. When they finally glanced around to probably see if it was clear to go after her, they saw me.
My hands were balled into fists as I stared them down, daring them to move a fucking inch toward her. They backed down, slinking back into the dark, and I continued to follow her.
She was a fucking idiot. Walking down the city streets, in the dark, drunk off her ass. It practically screamed to the world that she was vulnerable and ripe for the picking.
Very ripe, the beast purred.
You’re no fucking help.
We would have ripped those guys apart. Then ripped her pants off and spanked her.
After a few blocks, her spine straightened, and she turned to look behind her.
For the first fucking time in a few fucking thousand feet.
“Are you stalking me now, Thorne?” she asked as she walked backward for a few steps, then turned back around, her feet unsteady as she righted herself.
“You wish, Palmer,” I lied. “I’m headed home myself, and making sure you get home all right in your drunken state. Last thing I need is to be implicated because your drunk ass was last seen with me before you disappeared or wound up dead.”
“I can take care of myself. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” She stopped in front of a building and grabbed hold of the door.
A very familiar building.
“Well, I’m home, so off you go.”
Fuck my life.
It was my building.
I followed her in, cursing whatever fate put us so fucking close together. She waved to the night guard, whose name I hadn’t gotten yet. I gave him a nod and continued behind her into the awaiting elevator.
If there were erotic nightmares, I was fucking in one. Where you were hard all the damn time and you couldn’t fuck the girl, so you were left in an almost constant state of blue balls. That about summed up my life from the day I met Delilah Palmer.
“Seriously, Thorne, you can go home now.”
It was so hard not to grab her and pin her against the wall.
Do it.
No.
Her aggravation amused me, and I let out a chuckle as I leaned down to her ear. “I am going home.”
Smells so good. Taste her. Lick her neck and fucking taste her!
She staggered, and I reached out to steady her. The gasp that passed her lips didn’t go unnoticed, especially when it turned into a moan. Neither did the humming that moved between us where I held her. My whole body tightened, even my grip on her.
“Do you really live here?” she asked.
The beast rattled in his cage, unrelenting, angry, and lust filled. It took every fucking ounce of strength I possessed not to give in, to drag her up to my condo and give in to the overpowering force of my dick’s will.
“Fourteenth floor.”
“You’re telling me I can never get away from you?” she asked as she looked up at me, her eyes glassy from the alcohol.
“What, you think because we live in the same building that I’m going to come find you?” I ripped my arm from her. “Dream on, Palmer. You’re not that pretty.”
The words were to put her off, to get her to respond by slapping me or getting angry. Despise me. Hate me. Anything to make an inch of space between us.
You have to be fucking kidding me!
Why was she everywhere I went?
“Can I get a Dos Equis?” I asked the bartender.
As much as I tried to ignore it, push past it and her, it never got any better.
“Palmer,” I said as I slid onto the barstool beside her. I slipped on a smirk, something to deter her from any desire to speak to me.
“Thorne,” she replied with more than a little annoyance in her tone.
It was exactly what I wanted, but for some reason, it rubbed me wrong.
“What brings you here?” I asked.
She didn’t even turn to look at me. “I’m here every Friday. Why are you here?”
“I needed a drink. I just spent the last hour trying to lose Kelly. I think she was trying to find out where I live.”
She let out a sigh. “And of course you had to land in my bar.”
“Does it have your name on it?” I asked, just to be a smart ass.
She glared at me and was about to say something when John interrupted with my drink.
“Here you go,” he said as he set the bottle down. “Wanna start a tab?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
He turned to Delilah. “Lila, you good?”
She tapped her finger on the glass in her hand. “One more.”
The name threw me off, and when he left to make her drink, I leaned on the bar, sliding a little closer to her.
“Lila?”
“Short for Delilah.”
I took a sip of my beer. “I’ve never heard anyone call you that nickname.”
“Only Caroline at the office does. Delilah is more professional, so only my friends call me Lila.”
Friends. Where were all her supposed friends? She sat beside me, in a bar, all alone, and from the familiarity between her and the bartender, it was a regular occurrence.
We sat next to each other in silence, my attention trying to stay on the basketball game on the screen in front of me and not on the few inches that separated us. It was a dangerous situation to be in, especially with how obsessed I’d been with her.
I finished off three beers as Delilah sipped her way through her drink. A firm grip on my bottle was all I had to stop me from reacting to the current that moved between us, from dragging her to the back and fucking her like I’d dreamt of for weeks.
“Well, I’m out,” she said as she signaled to the bartender for her tab.
I watched her, the loose way her body moved, the drooping of her eyes. She was relaxed, tired, and a prime fucking target the moment she stepped out those doors.
“See you Monday, Thorne,” she said, then let out a small giggle. “Thorne…in my side.”
It was barely audible, but I heard it. There was no way I was going to let her walk or drive wherever she was going, so I called for my check and quickly followed her out.
By the time I made it outside, she wasn’t very far ahead of me, her steps slow and wobbly. I kept my distance, not wanting to tip her off. As we passed by an alleyway, she caught the attention of two men standing in the dark.
MINE!
They stared after her, whispered words I could barely hear, but it was clear they were drunk and up to no good. I glared at them, waiting for them to move toward her so I could beat the shit out of them for even looking her way. When they finally glanced around to probably see if it was clear to go after her, they saw me.
My hands were balled into fists as I stared them down, daring them to move a fucking inch toward her. They backed down, slinking back into the dark, and I continued to follow her.
She was a fucking idiot. Walking down the city streets, in the dark, drunk off her ass. It practically screamed to the world that she was vulnerable and ripe for the picking.
Very ripe, the beast purred.
You’re no fucking help.
We would have ripped those guys apart. Then ripped her pants off and spanked her.
After a few blocks, her spine straightened, and she turned to look behind her.
For the first fucking time in a few fucking thousand feet.
“Are you stalking me now, Thorne?” she asked as she walked backward for a few steps, then turned back around, her feet unsteady as she righted herself.
“You wish, Palmer,” I lied. “I’m headed home myself, and making sure you get home all right in your drunken state. Last thing I need is to be implicated because your drunk ass was last seen with me before you disappeared or wound up dead.”
“I can take care of myself. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” She stopped in front of a building and grabbed hold of the door.
A very familiar building.
“Well, I’m home, so off you go.”
Fuck my life.
It was my building.
I followed her in, cursing whatever fate put us so fucking close together. She waved to the night guard, whose name I hadn’t gotten yet. I gave him a nod and continued behind her into the awaiting elevator.
If there were erotic nightmares, I was fucking in one. Where you were hard all the damn time and you couldn’t fuck the girl, so you were left in an almost constant state of blue balls. That about summed up my life from the day I met Delilah Palmer.
“Seriously, Thorne, you can go home now.”
It was so hard not to grab her and pin her against the wall.
Do it.
No.
Her aggravation amused me, and I let out a chuckle as I leaned down to her ear. “I am going home.”
Smells so good. Taste her. Lick her neck and fucking taste her!
She staggered, and I reached out to steady her. The gasp that passed her lips didn’t go unnoticed, especially when it turned into a moan. Neither did the humming that moved between us where I held her. My whole body tightened, even my grip on her.
“Do you really live here?” she asked.
The beast rattled in his cage, unrelenting, angry, and lust filled. It took every fucking ounce of strength I possessed not to give in, to drag her up to my condo and give in to the overpowering force of my dick’s will.
“Fourteenth floor.”
“You’re telling me I can never get away from you?” she asked as she looked up at me, her eyes glassy from the alcohol.
“What, you think because we live in the same building that I’m going to come find you?” I ripped my arm from her. “Dream on, Palmer. You’re not that pretty.”
The words were to put her off, to get her to respond by slapping me or getting angry. Despise me. Hate me. Anything to make an inch of space between us.
